


Break Even

by VelkynKarma



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Guilt, Injury, Matt (Voltron)-centric, PTSD, interpret as you will, set in early S4, whether it's Shiro or Kuron is completely unimportant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 05:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14371884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelkynKarma/pseuds/VelkynKarma
Summary: Ever since Matt returned with Pidge, and discovered Shiro was still alive, he's had a few things he's wanted to say. A sparring match against the Gladiator maybe isn't the best time for it, but then again, maybe it is.





	Break Even

**Author's Note:**

> Not even really sure where this came from, I just imagined the conversation in my head the other night thought, 'well, damn it, now I have to write that down.' So here it is, written down. Enjoy.
> 
> Set early season 4, shortly after Matt returns to the Castle with Pidge. Whether or not it's Shiro or Kuron is completely irrelevant and, as such, is entirely up to reader interpretation.

Matt’s staff clashes against the Gladiator’s with a crack of metal on metal. In most matches, his chosen weapon gives him more leverage against his opponents, but against a robot using the same weapon, he’s sorely outclassed. He can feel it pushing him back within ticks.  
  
He can’t outmuscle it, but he _can_ outthink it. He feints, disengages, and spins the staff around to strike at the Gladiator’s unprotected leg. When it automatically spins its own staff to block, Matt reverses direction and smashes it in the head with the other end of his weapon.   
  
The bot crashes to the ground at the strike. Before it can recover, Matt leaps forward to bring the weighted end of his staff down in a thrust at its head. The Gladiator dissolves in a burst of data, and Matt recovers back to a ready stance, weapon held in both hands.  
  
He’s panting, and his knee twinges a little, but he’s satisfied. Level three, down. Could he handle four, today?  
  
“Oops. Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was using the training deck.”  
  
Matt spins around in surprise, but grins when he spots Shiro at the door. Shiro’s decked out in full black paladin armor, with his helmet under one arm; clearly, he’d been hoping to take a crack at the bot himself. “Hey, Shiro. Sorry, I probably should have checked if there was a schedule or something.” He smiles sheepishly. “I just wanted to try out your training room after Pidge gave me the grand tour.”   
  
“That’s a new one,” Shiro says with an amused smile, as he walks across the training deck to Matt.   
  
He’s not wrong to think it. Back on Earth, Matt had tended towards libraries more than gyms. He’d been physically fit enough to pass all the exams for the Kerberos mission, of course. But give him a choice between playing a game of sports or playing with a new game on the computer, he’d have picked the computer game, every time.   
  
That had been back then, of course. Things have changed a lot, since then.  
  
“Do they not have training spaces with the rebels?” Shiro continues, curious.  
  
“Oh, they do,” Matt says. “But not nearly _this_ nice. Besides, I haven’t been at those facilities for a while. I’ve been stationed at a listening outpost. I’ve been doing drills in my spare time, but I’ve gotten rusty without sparring.” He stares down at his staff.   
  
“Rusty?” Shiro repeats, surprised. “Pidge said you took down a pretty nasty bounty hunter.”  
  
“We did,” Matt admits. “Together. But if Pidge hadn’t been there, I still should have been able to handle him myself. I’m the one he was after. I _should_ have been able to handle it on my own.”   
  
He tries to keep his frustration from his face. But he’s never been very good at concealing his emotions, and Shiro could always pick out when something was wrong, anyway.   
  
“Hey,” Shiro says. “You took him down, and that’s what matters.”   
  
Matt only shakes his head. He’s not satisfied with that answer; it only irritates him further.  
  
Shiro doesn’t miss that, and raises an eyebrow. “You’re not mad because Pidge had to fight, I hope. This isn’t some big brother instinct thing, right? Because you know Pidge would kick your ass if she thought you were babying her.”  
  
Despite his frustration, Matt can’t help but laugh at that. “Oh, I’m well aware, trust me. And no, I wouldn’t do that. Well I mean, I _did_ try to tell her to get back at first, against that bounty hunter. But she did the same to me, so I figured she cold handle herself. And she did. Really well.” He smiles proudly; his little sister is incredible.   
  
But then he sobers as his frustration returns. “But that’s not the point. I still need to be better than that.” _I can’t ever let anyone fight my battles for me ever again._  
  
“Okay,” Shiro says, accepting the answer for what it is. “Well. If you want to solo practice more, I can come back later…”  
  
Matt shakes his head. “It’s your facility. I’m not going to kick you guys out. A paladin of Voltron should probably get first priority, really.”  
  
Shiro grins. “Or we could tag-team one on a higher setting. Combat training with a partner is still combat training.”   
  
That actually sounds interesting, and Matt grins back. “You’re on. What level, then?”  
  
“Eight.”  
  
Matt whistles. “Three was pretty tricky. Even with two people, eight will be a challenge.”  
  
“We can take it,” Shiro says confidently.   
  
“Well, if the fabled head of Voltron says we can tackle it, I believe it,” Matt says, spinning his staff into a ready position, and ignoring the slight twinge of protest in his knee. “I’m good when you are.”  
  
Shiro settles his helmet on, and swings his right arm to the side. Purple lines travel up his arm, over the black gauntlet and armor, all the way up to his elbow, before the glove seems to dissolve and expose his brilliantly glowing hand. Matt is a little surprised by that—he’d been expecting a bayard, like Pidge carries—but that weapon looks pretty dangerous in its own right. “Alright. Let’s go, then.”  
  
As expected, a level eight Gladiator is quite tricky—made even trickier by Matt and Shiro not being familiar with each others’ combat styles yet. Matt’s always known Shiro was skilled in martial arts—he’d always thought it was cool that Shiro was so good at something he’d always respected but never thought he could do personally. But Matt’s skills with a staff are a relatively new acquisition, and it means they still need to adapt to each others’ skills in combat.  
  
For a while, that means playing it safe. Matt makes cautious strikes with his staff to avoid hitting Shiro by accident, and Shiro’s clearly doing what he can to not get in the way. The Gladiator gains a lot of ground on them as they go on the defensive. It gets at least one good crack at Shiro’s armor, and whacks Matt’s upper arm hard enough that it’ll certainly leave a bruise.  
  
But eventually they start to get the hang of it. And once they start to figure out each others’ combat strengths, they start to push back and go on the offensive. Shiro, Matt discovers, has no range, and is forced to get up close to make any decent strike—something that’s difficult to do, with the range on the Gladiator’s staff. But Matt has the range and the weapon necessary to block or lock the Gladiator’s, and buy Shiro some precious time to get in close enough to hit it. They gain ground steadily, and the Gladiator starts defaulting to more defensive moves as they attack.  
  
They work well as a team. They always had, of course—that was why Matt and Shiro had been chosen for the Kerberos mission in the first place. Their simulation scores were top of the class, and they adapted quickly to new situations. But fighting is new, and the training against the Gladiator is a nice reminder that they’ve both still got what it takes to succeed at any mission.   
  
Even so, Matt is impressed with Shiro’s combat skills. He’s good. _Really_ good. Matt might be blocking and deflecting the Gladiator’s staff strikes, but it’s really Shiro that’s doing the bulk of the work in this match. Even pushing himself hard, Matt just can’t keep up; Shiro outclasses him in nearly every way in combat. Shiro’s the one getting the strikes on the Gladiator, even if they’re mostly superficial. Shiro’s the one forcing it to retreat. He’s fast, adaptive, incredibly strong, and fights with an intensity that’s a little frightening, if Matt’s completely honest with himself.  
  
 _This is my fight! I want blood!_   
  
It wasn’t real, and never had been, Matt knows that. But he wonders now if maybe a tiny kernel of it had been. Or, maybe, if that was something that had come later, when Shiro hadn’t had a choice any longer.   
  
Even mid-fight, he can’t help but shudder.  
  
His distraction, even for just a sliver of a tick, costs him. A level eight Gladiator is skilled enough to take advantage of his lack of concentration, however short it is. Its staff twists in mid-fight, banking away from Shiro’s raised deflecting arm at the last second and spinning for Matt. It cracks him hard in the left leg, right at his knee, and the joint buckles beneath him.  
  
Matt yelps in pain as he goes down. His instinct is to grab for his leg, but he fights it back, trying to remember his training. He forces himself to roll back to his feet, but his left leg protests again, and he drops back to one knee. He can already feel the dull throb in the old injury starting to act up, and groans internally to himself. Not _now!_ He shouldn’t have pushed so hard, and paid attention to the warning signs earlier.   
  
He brings his staff up defensively even as he crouches on the floor. The Gladiator spins its own staff, whipping it around to strike. Matt moves into the parry, still a little awkwardly—the staff is too long to effectively be wielded this low to the ground, but if he can—  
  
The Gladiator’s chest bursts as Shiro’s glowing violet-white hand smashes through it, flat like a blade. It dissolves into hundreds of bits of data that retreat back into the training room’s holding area, awaiting the next match, and Shiro stands behind it, hand still outstretched.  
  
For a moment, he stares down at Matt with a look of wide-eyed surprise. But then he shakes his head, as though clearing his thoughts, de-powers his Galra prosthetic, and steps forward to offer Matt his left hand. “You okay?”  
  
Matt takes it gratefully, and lets Shiro pull him to his feet. He tests his left leg carefully as he puts his weight down on it again. It holds, this time, although he can feel the dull twinge in his knee that says he’d better stop soon, unless he wants to be in agony later. “Yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to drop the ball like that.” He grumbles to himself as he glares down at his knee. “Figures they’d go for the left one. Just my rotten luck.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
Matt blinks in surprise at that, and glances up to meet Shiro’s eyes. His expression is full of guilt, but that only leaves Matt more baffled than before. “Huh?”  
  
“That leg,” he says, nodding to Matt’s left knee. “That’s the one I attacked, right? I didn’t realize I’d done so much damage. I’m sorry.”  
  
Matt gapes at him. After a moment, he says, “You’re sorry for _saving my life?_ Uh, please don’t be.”   
  
“I didn’t—“  
  
“You did,” Matt says. “You very definitely did save my life. I’d have been dead if you hadn’t acted. I’ll take an occasionally irritable leg over losing my life any day of the week.”  
  
“But it still hurts you,” Shiro says. “Even now? I mean…this isn’t just because of that one strike. You were favoring that leg during the match, too.”  
  
Matt winces at that, but he doesn’t want to lie. “Yeah. Sometimes. I…probably shouldn’t have been pushing myself so hard. Or taken a break before tag-teaming a level eight with you. That was me being stupid. It has been known to happen.”   
  
“I didn’t think…I couldn’t think of anything else,” Shiro says. He sounds helpless, and a little miserable. “I figured a damaged leg would be enough to get you out of the fight, but I didn’t mean to hurt you permanently…”  
  
“Shiro, it’s _fine,”_ Matt assures. “Seriously. I really mean that. Most of the time it’s not even a problem, honestly. It only really acts up if I overwork it—like now—or sometimes in really extreme temperatures. The joint, you know. But hey…it still functions, and more importantly, I’m still _alive_ to use it. So seriously, you don’t have to apologize. But if you insist, I forgive you.”  
  
Shiro doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he nods. “Okay. If you’re sure. I wouldn’t blame you if you were angry. You have every right to be.”  
  
“I’m not,” Matt assures. “In fact…” He hesitates. “Honestly? I’m the one that should be apologizing here. For a lot of things.”  
  
Shiro frowns. “I can’t think of anything.”  
  
“Well, I’ve thought about it plenty.” For well over a year, ever since that day he’d narrowly escaped with his life, at the cost of a friend’s.   
  
“Do you want to sit? Sounds like you’ve got a few things on your mind. And your leg…”  
  
“That’d be a good idea,” Matt admits. And he’s grateful for the chance to stall. This is a conversation he’s known needs to happen for a while, ever since the moment he saw Shiro when he stepped off the Green Lion. But he hadn’t expected it to come up quite so fast. And now that it’s here, he’s nervous. There’s so many ugly thoughts and memories attached, and they’re never fun to delve into.  
  
But he has to, because they both deserve it.   
  
Shiro leads them to the control room for the deck, and Matt sits down in one of the chairs. He stretches his left leg out in front of him gratefully. He’d been truthful earlier; it normally doesn’t bother him much, but he’d _really_ pushed himself more than he should have today. There’s a dull throb settling in, and if he leaves it too long, it’s only going to get worse. He wonders if he can track down a heat pack somewhere to wrap it in. Those always help.  
  
“Okay,” Shiro says, sitting down at another nearby chair. “What could you possibly think you have to apologize for?”  
  
“A lot,” Matt says. He takes a deep breath, before diving in. _Just get it over with_. “You never should have had to fight in that arena for me in the first place. I’m sorry I locked up, and forced you into that position. You should never have had to make that decision.”  
  
Shiro looks surprised. “You’re my friend, Matt. Why wouldn’t I have done that? Even if I hadn’t been, I was second in command after your father. Of course I had to make that decision.”  
  
But Matt shakes his head. “No. No way. This was way beyond the scope of anything the Garrison could have demanded of any of us. And when I _should_ have been a reliable teammate, or even a decent friend, I froze. I was pathetic. I was terrified. I couldn’t do a damn thing to save myself, or try to figure out a way to get us out of there. I went completely deer in the headlights…all that training gone to waste.”   
  
He puts his head in his hands, embarrassed and ashamed of his actions over a year ago, even as he admits to it. “You went into that arena in my place, and…”   
  
He falls silent, struggling to find the words.  
  
“And?” Shiro prompts, after a full dobosh. Slowly, very carefully, very patiently.   
  
“I…I thought you died, Shiro,” Matt nearly whispers. “And that…that’s the other thing I’ve got to apologize for.”   
  
“What?”  
  
“I thought you died,” Matt repeats, louder this time. “I…I only saw the beginning of the match. Bits and pieces, through the door, as they were dragging me out. That big gladiator, with that orb weapon…he was brutal. You were getting knocked around so badly I was sure you were dead. I never saw the end of the match, but…I mean, we were supposed to be cannon fodder. You were _dead._  
  
“And I was so sure you’d taken my place. Died _for_ me. Just so I could try to find my dad, and get home to my mom and Pidge, even though _you_ had people to go home to, too. Because I was too weak to do it myself. I _hated_ myself for that. I felt so damn guilty.”  
  
“Matt…”  
  
“And after all that, I didn’t even trust you to live through it. I just…gave up on you. Decided you couldn’t have made it.” Matt swallows. “When I first joined the rebels, I tried to check the arena data. But rebel resources are limited, and I didn’t even have a photo to search with. I couldn’t find your name with what I had. That just confirmed it for me. You couldn’t have lived through that. I didn’t even know you were alive until Pidge brought me here. When I first saw you I thought I was seeing a ghost.”   
  
Matt can’t even meet Shiro’s eyes anymore. His fingers dig a little harder into his hair as he stares down at his lap. “And it was so good to see you, but at the same time, I felt even worse. I wonder how long I escaped before you? Could I have gotten a rescue attempt moving if I’d known? Could I have prevented all these things that happened to you if I’d bothered to _check?"_ He shakes his head, disgusted with himself. "Some friend I am. You saved my damn life and I couldn’t even be bothered to return the favor.”  
  
 _“Matt.”_ Shiro’s voice is stern. “There’s no way you could have known. You can’t blame yourself for any of this. _I_ don’t blame you for any of this.”  
  
“You _should,”_ Matt mutters, bitter. He still can’t look at Shiro.  
  
“No, I shouldn’t,” Shiro says. He sounds shockingly patient, and not at all mad, which just feels wrong. “They only ever had me under a show name, and I didn’t have it when you were taken. You couldn’t have known what they called me, and there’s no reason your searches would have worked if you were looking for my name. And, honestly? We both know those gladiator prisons were so heavily guarded the rebels probably wouldn’t have been able to make a dent in them, even if you _had_ known I was there.”  
  
Matt doesn’t say anything.  
  
“It worked out, in the end,” Shiro says. “I’m not going to lie and say I don’t wish I’d escaped earlier. But I might not have met Ulaz, or learned about Voltron, if I hadn’t broken out like I did. We wouldn’t have found the Blue Lion in time. We wouldn’t have the Blade of Marmora as allies today. So don’t blame yourself.”   
  
Matt sighs. “I know. I know that, logically. I just…I wish I’d _done_ something. I wish I’d known. I wish I hadn’t just given up on you surviving. I wish I’d been stronger back then.”   
  
Shiro frowns. “Is that what all this training is about? When you said you should have been able to handle it?”  
  
Matt’s eyes narrow. For the first time since the confession began, he finds the courage to look up and meet Shiro’s eyes. “It took a little while for my head to clear, at first. After that fight. I was so scared. But after a while I got so tired of being scared, and I decided: never again. I am never letting _anyone_ else die for me ever again. I’ll get as strong as I have to, as smart as I have to, as vicious as I have to, if it comes to it. Never again.”  
  
“Hey. Matt.” Shiro places a hand on his arm—the left one, not his prosthetic—and looks him in the eye. “Listen. I get that feeling. Trust me, I do. But this is a team effort, too. You should absolutely make yourself stronger to protect yourself, and to protect others. But don’t forget, other people want to protect you, too. There’s no shame in letting them—and no shame in having moments of weakness, either.” He smiles weakly. “I’ve certainly had them.”  
  
Matt snorts a little at that. “I have a hard time believing that. I _saw_ that gladiator—he was at least ten feet tall and built like a brick wall. And now that I know you lived through that fight, I’m pretty sure that’s conclusive evidence that you’re invincible.”  
  
“If only,” Shiro mutters. There’s a faraway look in his eyes, for a moment, but then he shakes his head and removes his hand from Matt’s arm. “And don’t be in such a rush to make yourself bloodthirsty just to win. You’ll lose what you are if you do. If there’s _really_ one lesson you want to take away from that day…just remember that, instead.”  
  
Matt barely fights back a shiver. He can still see Shiro, wild-eyed and vicious, striking at him and knocking him to the ground with a snarl. _This is my fight! I want blood!_ It had legitimately terrified him, up until the point Shiro had whispered for him to take care of his father. He’d really thought Shiro had lost his mind.   
  
Maybe it had only been a trick then, but he wonders how many times Shiro had been forced to use it after, just to live. He wonders if Shiro will be forced to live with that trapped in his bones for the rest of his life.  
  
It’s really not fair. None of it had been, for either of them.   
  
“Alright,” Matt says. “I’ll keep that in mind. But it doesn’t change the fact that I still need to be better than this.”  
  
“Maybe,” Shiro agrees. “But you’re done for the night.”   
  
Matt’s not arguing there. His knee certainly agrees. “Fair,” he says. Then he hesitates. “I still owe you my life. Even if…even if you’re not angry about those things, I’m sorry I was too weak to handle myself. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. And if I get the chance, you know I’ll pay you back.”   
  
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Shiro retorts. “Not over some ridiculous life debt. You don’t owe me anything, Matt. I’m serious. But like you said earlier…if you’re so insistent, I forgive you. Now we’re even.”  
  
An injury for a life, or for a year languishing in a Galra prison, doesn’t seem like a very fair exchange to Matt. But Shiro’s got that stubborn look on his face that says he won’t take no for an answer, so for now Matt nods in agreement. “Okay.”  
  
“Great. We can head back to the lounge, if you want. I think Pidge has a bunch of movies, both from Earth and a bunch of other planets. We could check it out—or do you want to head to the infirmary for that?” He gestures at Matt’s knee.  
  
Matt shakes his head. “Infirmaries don’t do much. Old wound, so even those Altean pods won’t do much for it. But I won’t lie, a heat pack would be nice, and a chance to not stand on it for a bit. Movie would be good.” He brightens. “Do you think we could get Hunk to make more of those milkshakes?”  
  
“Probably,” Shiro says. “And there should be plenty to go around, now. Allura and Coran won’t touch them anymore. Not sure why, honestly.” He stands, and offers Matt his hand again. Matt takes it gratefully to pull to his feet. His left leg feel a little stiff, and his knee still throbs a little, but it’s not terrible. As long as he takes it easy, he should be fine by tomorrow.   
  
“Excellent,” Matt says. “Those were really great. Like a little slice of home. I could definitely use that after all that training.”  
  
“You deserve it,” Shiro agrees. “And for the record, even if you don’t think it, you’re pretty strong. Level three is no cakewalk to solo, and I saw you take that one down. When the team and I first started, we got decimated by a level one. All five of us. At once.”  
  
“I don’t believe it,” Matt says.  
  
“Ask Pidge. She can probably find the records somewhere. Allura was furious.” Shiro smiles fondly at the memory. “So. Why a staff? Who taught you how to use it?”  
  
Matt grins. “After I got rescued, there was this rebel fighter named Zo’ek. He was great with a staff, and I figured it would be better for me to have something with range, but I never liked firearms much at the Garrison. So I asked him to teach me, and…”  
  
He dives into explaining about his weapons training—the pitfalls and the difficulties of learning to make himself strong—and Shiro listens attentively. He asks questions at the right places and laughs along when Matt explains his dumb mistakes. It feels natural and friendly and fun again, and Matt can almost pretend that the last year never happened, and they’re just joking around on the ship on the way to Kerberos. No Galra. No Empire. No kidnapping. No war.  
  
But it did happen. It did happen, and Shiro really did save Matt’s life, at the cost of his own—or near enough. And no matter what Shiro says about canceled debts, Matt knows he still owes him one. God willing, Shiro will never need it, but Matt has learned enough by now to know the universe is a dangerous place and it’s better to be prepared.   
  
And one day, if Shiro’s in trouble—if is life is on the line—if he needs help, and Matt is in even the slightest position to provide it, he’s going to be there. He won’t let the life Shiro bought for him go to waste. He won’t let that sacrifice be meaningless. He’ll keep fighting to get strong enough to protect any of them, all of them if he has to.   
  
No one is ever going to be forced to make a sacrifice like that for him. He won’t be too weak to handle himself next time. Never again.


End file.
